The Ivy-Clad Ruin.[510]’Tis the old, old church that for years I’ve known,And with ivy green are its walls o’ergrown;All its ancient splendor has passed away,And there’s naught remaining but grim decay;The pale moonbeams glimmer the windows through,And the roofless floor is all damp with dew;Both the pious priest and his flock are gone,And the gravestones watch o’er their dead alone.Oh, how oft I’ve passed thro’ the spacious aisleAnd have met the throng with a friendly smile;In the bygone days when I saw them kneel,When I felt the thrill of the organ’s peal;But the forms I knew enter here no more,And no footsteps fall on the mouldy floor;There’s but one thing left that with life I’ve seen—’Tis the faithful vine of the ivy green.—Geo.M. Vickers.[510]By permission of W. F. Shaw, owner of the copyright.
The Ivy-Clad Ruin.[510]’Tis the old, old church that for years I’ve known,And with ivy green are its walls o’ergrown;All its ancient splendor has passed away,And there’s naught remaining but grim decay;The pale moonbeams glimmer the windows through,And the roofless floor is all damp with dew;Both the pious priest and his flock are gone,And the gravestones watch o’er their dead alone.Oh, how oft I’ve passed thro’ the spacious aisleAnd have met the throng with a friendly smile;In the bygone days when I saw them kneel,When I felt the thrill of the organ’s peal;But the forms I knew enter here no more,And no footsteps fall on the mouldy floor;There’s but one thing left that with life I’ve seen—’Tis the faithful vine of the ivy green.—Geo.M. Vickers.[510]By permission of W. F. Shaw, owner of the copyright.
’Tis the old, old church that for years I’ve known,And with ivy green are its walls o’ergrown;All its ancient splendor has passed away,And there’s naught remaining but grim decay;The pale moonbeams glimmer the windows through,And the roofless floor is all damp with dew;Both the pious priest and his flock are gone,And the gravestones watch o’er their dead alone.Oh, how oft I’ve passed thro’ the spacious aisleAnd have met the throng with a friendly smile;In the bygone days when I saw them kneel,When I felt the thrill of the organ’s peal;But the forms I knew enter here no more,And no footsteps fall on the mouldy floor;There’s but one thing left that with life I’ve seen—’Tis the faithful vine of the ivy green.—Geo.M. Vickers.
’Tis the old, old church that for years I’ve known,And with ivy green are its walls o’ergrown;All its ancient splendor has passed away,And there’s naught remaining but grim decay;The pale moonbeams glimmer the windows through,And the roofless floor is all damp with dew;Both the pious priest and his flock are gone,And the gravestones watch o’er their dead alone.Oh, how oft I’ve passed thro’ the spacious aisleAnd have met the throng with a friendly smile;In the bygone days when I saw them kneel,When I felt the thrill of the organ’s peal;But the forms I knew enter here no more,And no footsteps fall on the mouldy floor;There’s but one thing left that with life I’ve seen—’Tis the faithful vine of the ivy green.—Geo.M. Vickers.
’Tis the old, old church that for years I’ve known,
And with ivy green are its walls o’ergrown;
All its ancient splendor has passed away,
And there’s naught remaining but grim decay;
The pale moonbeams glimmer the windows through,
And the roofless floor is all damp with dew;
Both the pious priest and his flock are gone,
And the gravestones watch o’er their dead alone.
Oh, how oft I’ve passed thro’ the spacious aisleAnd have met the throng with a friendly smile;In the bygone days when I saw them kneel,When I felt the thrill of the organ’s peal;But the forms I knew enter here no more,And no footsteps fall on the mouldy floor;There’s but one thing left that with life I’ve seen—’Tis the faithful vine of the ivy green.—Geo.M. Vickers.
Oh, how oft I’ve passed thro’ the spacious aisle
And have met the throng with a friendly smile;
In the bygone days when I saw them kneel,
When I felt the thrill of the organ’s peal;
But the forms I knew enter here no more,
And no footsteps fall on the mouldy floor;
There’s but one thing left that with life I’ve seen—
’Tis the faithful vine of the ivy green.
—Geo.M. Vickers.